The Legend of Joe Moran
by MaverickLover2
Summary: Stu is hired by Audrey Moran to find her husband, who seems to have vanished into thin air. Not the most challenging case he'd ever taken. That was before he began looking for the elusive Joe Moran.
1. Chapter 1

The Legend of Joe Moran

Chapter 1

Audrey Moran had an appointment with Stu Bailey at eleven o'clock. "What's it about?" Jeff Spencer, his partner, asked him as they sat in Stu's office and drank coffee. It was somewhere around nine o'clock on a Wednesday morning. The sun was shining and it promised to be another beautiful day in Los Angeles.

"I don't know," was Stu's answer. "She wouldn't say. Just told me it was a most urgent matter and she needed to see me right away."

"Maybe it will be an easy case." Jeff's expression belied his words. His brow wrinkled up as if he didn't put any faith in what he'd just said. Recently they'd investigated one strange and difficult problem after another, and both were just a little worn around the edges.

"Ha! When have we ever gotten an easy case?" Stuart had a point.

"Well, there was . . . no, that didn't qualify. Then there was . . . no, not that either. How about . . . I guess you're right. None of them have been easy."

Stu sighed deeply. "A nice little case of murder would be just the thing. Somehow I don't think that's what Miss Moran wants to talk to me about."

"Probably not."

The intercom buzzed. It was Suzanne. "Jeff, Provident Insurance Company is on the line. Mr. Gus Higgins needs to speak with you."

Stuart smiled as Jeff rose to go to his office. "Good luck, old buddy."

"You, too, dad," Jeff called back over his shoulder.

Stu stared at the papers on his desk. He'd been in the hospital for a month, then home recuperating for almost another month, and had only been back to work for about a week. Jeff had done his best to keep abreast of the paperwork while Stu was gone, but it just couldn't be handled by one man anymore. The hope of both of them was that they could bring Kookie in as a junior partner one day, but he still had a lot to learn before that could happen. Stu sighed and pulled the top form off of his 'In' basket. Maybe he could get some things done before Audrey Moran arrived.

He'd finished two reports and signed off on a third before the intercom buzzed. "Stuart, Audrey Moran is here to see you."

"Alright, Suzanne, ask her to come in please."

The woman that walked into Stu's office was not at all what he'd expected, and he immediately stood up. She was beautiful, from head to toe. Hair a deep, rich auburn, just brushing her shoulders, eyes a smoky blue, with the face of an angel and a body to match. To finish off the picture, her taste in clothing was impeccable. And expensive.

"Miss Moran, won't you have a seat."

"It's Mrs. Moran, but please call me Audrey. You come very highly recommended, Mr. Bailey. But I'm sure you know that."

"Please, I'm Stu or Stuart. And yes, I do know that the firm has developed quite a reputation." Stu had resumed his seat and taken out his pipe. He needed something to steady him after being as blindsided by Mrs. Moran as he was. "Do you mind?" he asked before he lit it.

"Not at all. There's something very masculine about a man that smokes a pipe. And I don't mean that the firm comes highly recommended, although it does. I mean that Stuart Bailey comes highly recommended."

"Well, thank you. What can I do for you, Mrs. . . . Audrey?" Stu flipped open the lighter on his desk and lit the pipe in his mouth.

"I seem to be missing a husband, Stuart. And I'd like you to find him for me."

"When did you see him last?" Something made the hair on the back of Stu's neck stand up. He had the distinct feeling this was no routine missing persons case. In fact, he couldn't actually put a label on what he was feeling; just that there was something very odd about the whole matter.

"Four days ago, at breakfast. He just seems to have vanished off the face of the earth."

"Have you reported him missing to the police?" Stu never ceased to be amazed at the number of people that didn't think of doing this.

"I have. They took some information from me but didn't seem that concerned about it. So I came to see you."

"What about his place of business?" Audrey Moran dressed too well to be married to just another working man. It seemed much more appropriate that Joe Moran owned his own business.

"He seems to have vanished from that, too. I've called everyone I can think of, Stuart. Joe is nowhere to be found."

"I assume you want him to be found. That is why you came to see me, isn't it?"

"I do, and it is."

"What kind of a business does he have, Audrey? And what's the address?"

"He owns a chain of dry-cleaning stores. Zippy Dry-Cleaning. You've probably heard of it. The plant itself is at 617 North La Cienega Blvd. That's where Joe's office is."

"Did they see him at all the day he disappeared?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, they did, but just for a few minutes. His plant manager said that Joe came into the office as always, went into his own office and, a few minutes later, came back out carrying his briefcase. He told them he'd be back later. He failed to say where he was going or just what later actually meant. That was his last contact with them."

Again, that feeling there was something going on here beyond the normal 'husband takes a powder and leaves wife holding the bag.' But he asked the questions anyway. He had to eliminate everything else before he could draw any actual conclusions. "Was the business in any kind of financial trouble, Audrey?"

"Not according to his bookkeeper. I contacted Harry when Joe didn't come home. Harry LaMar is his name. Feel free to ask him anything you'd like. I've already given him permission to cooperate fully with you."

_Rather presumptuous of Mrs. Moran,_ Stu thought, but said nothing to that effect. "I'm sorry to have to ask this, but did Joe have a girlfriend on the side? Or a mistress of any sort?"

The abandoned wife didn't even blink. Her voice was cool but not distressed. "Not to my knowledge, no."

"Did he drink? Something stronger? Or gamble? Horse racing, perhaps?"

"The occasional cocktail, Stuart, but nothing beyond that. And he definitely wasn't involved with drugs of any kind. As for gambling, we enjoyed going to Las Vegas once or twice a year, but Joe didn't have any particular affinity for the track."

The last step in his questioning. "Do you have a picture of your husband?"

Audrey Moran opened her bag and fished in one of the pockets. When she brought her hand out it held a photo that she promptly gave to the P.I. "This was taken just a few days ago." Stu examined it with a tired professional eye before coming to a conclusion. Once more the man in the photo was not what he expected. Tall and slim, wearing clothes of the same quality as his wife, Joe Moran was a not unattractive man. Wide-set expressive eyes and a ready smile, he wore a small mustache below a straight aquiline nose. His hair seemed dark and luxurious; he had an arm around his wife and appeared quite content.

"May I keep this?" Stu asked out of politeness, already surmising the answer.

"Most certainly." She appeared waiting for Stu's next question.

"Mrs. Moran . . . Audrey, we are not inexpensive. We charge . . . "

"The cost doesn't matter, Stuart. Is this enough to serve as a retainer?" Again she went into her purse, this time withdrawing a check. Stu glanced at it briefly. It was made out to Bailey and Spencer, Private Investigators in the amount of one-thousand dollars. When he didn't immediately answer she asked again, "Is that enough?"

"What? Oh yes, yes it's quite enough." The woman had seemingly come prepared for most anything.

"Is there anything else you'd like to know, Stuart?" she practically purred.

"Yes, one more thing. Is his car also missing? And can you give me the make and model?"

"His car disappeared with Joe. It's a 1959 Buck LaSabre, black, license plate MRB284." Stu was once more impressed with the anticipation of his questions and the answers provided to them.

"I can't think of anything else at the moment, Audrey. Is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

"There is, Stuart. Would you care to join me for lunch at Dino's?"

Momentarily taken aback, Stu did his best to recover as quickly as possible. He hesitated to get personally involved with a client, but at the same time he might be able to learn something more about Joe Moran. Since he had what he believed to be all the pertinent facts to the case at the moment, what he was looking for was some clue to the man's personality or habits. It seemed like a wise decision to pick through the marriage and their lives together. Was there a reason for Joe's disappearance that might be found in the course of the relationship? Some flaw in Audrey herself that had pushed her husband out the door? Or something that he could have possibly hidden from his wife? Stu laid all his doubts aside and decided to run the risk. "I think that would be most pleasant, Audrey."

He put out his pipe and escorted Audrey Moran out of his office, stopping at the switchboard. "Suzanne, Mrs. Moran and I are going to lunch at Dino's. Will you please let Jeff know?"

"Oui, Stuart. Have a pleasant lunch."

As they walked across the parking lot to the restaurant, Stu could see Kookie smiling and nodding his head. Stu smiled back. He was going to do his best to learn anything he could about the Moran marriage while enjoying the company of a beautiful woman. Even if she was a client.


	2. Chapter 2

The Legend of Joe Moran

Chapter 2

The lunch with Audrey Moran was delightful. Besides being beautiful she was bright and witty. She and Stuart discussed her marriage, but Stu could find nothing that would cause her husband to vanish. He learned they'd been married three years, had two Pekinese terriers named Emily and David, played bridge on Thursday nights and supported two different charities. She drank Rusty Nails and Martinis, worked out regularly and loved the ocean. When they were finished they walked back to Stu's office and she took his hand in hers. "It was lovely to meet you, Stuart. Please stay in touch. I want to know everything you find out."

He withdrew his hand slowly. "I will, Audrey. Good, bad or indifferent."

Less than five minutes after she'd left, the door between their offices opened and Jeff walked in and sat down. "Potential client?"

"Yes."

"I saw her. Yes is all you have to say?" Stu shook his head and lit a cigarette, offering one to Jeff, who accepted. Stu handed him the lighter. Once Jeff's was lit he stared at his partner, who was uncharacteristically quiet. "Stu?"

"Uh, yes. Yes is all I have to say." How could he convey the trepidation he felt to Jeff without sounding, quite frankly . . . daft.

Jeff shrugged his shoulders. If that was all Stu had to say, it was all he had to say. "What does she want you to do?"

"Find her husband."

"She's got a husband and he left that?" From the look of Audrey Moran, that seemed like the most ridiculous thing Jeff had heard in a while.

"Vanished, to use her phrase." Stu removed the cigarette from his lips and blew out a ring of smoke. "Something's odd about this whole thing, Jeff."

"Why do you say that?" Stu wasn't given to making pronouncements like that without a myriad of facts to back up his feelings.

Once again Stu hesitated to explain what he was thinking. "I don't know. It just is."

"You feeling alright?" Jeff wondered if maybe Stu had come back to work too soon. He knew his partner well, though, and if Stu Bailey had been restricted to his apartment much longer he might have committed murder.

"Feeling fine. It has nothing to do with . . . shoot, she made the hair on the back of my neck stand up."

That was a potentially severe reaction. "Did you take the case?"

Stu pulled Audrey's check out of his desk drawer and handed it to Jeff. Jeff whistled. "I guess you did. What does Mrs. Moran want?"

"She wants me to find Mr. Moran."

Jeff smiled. Audrey Moran was quite a looker, and he couldn't imagine anyone disappearing on her. "Need any help?"

Stu finally laughed. "You would ask. What did Mr. Higgins want?"

Jeff shrugged again. "Nothing exciting. Another bread-and-butter case that pays the rent. Potential insurance fraud with a jewelry store robbery. It will wait if you need me."

"Let me see how it goes. I'll be out of the office the rest of the afternoon. But I'll call in if you've got anything that won't wait until tonight."

"Nope. Paperwork is the order of business until Higgins gets me the data. Are we still on for dinner?" Jeff and Stu had a standing agreement that if neither one had a date, they'd meet at Dino's at seven o'clock to go over the days business.

Stu nodded. One of the things that he loved about Jeff was his resilience to bounce back from anything. "Unless something I can't control comes up."

"Like Audrey Moran?" Jeff almost giggled.

"Strictly a client, Jefferson."

_We'll see how long that lasts,_ Jeff thought. "Okay, Stuart."

Stu wadded up a piece of paper and threw it at Jeff. His partner was laughing as he returned to his office.

XXXXXXXX

After Kookie brought Stu his convertible, Bailey headed for Zippy Dry-Cleaning on LaCienega. It was easy enough to find; it occupied almost an entire block. Stu parked and stood in the parking lot for just a minute, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine. He needed to get out and play some golf. Tennis was still too difficult, given that his right wrist had deflected a bullet some two months back. But on a day like today he'd enjoy nothing as much as being on a golf course. Any golf course. He sighed and headed for the front door.

A cute little blonde thing sat at the receptionist's desk. "Can I help you, sir?"

Stu handed her his business card. "Stu Bailey to see Harry LaMar."

"Just a moment, Mr. Bailey. I'll tell Mr. LaMar you're here."

Less than a minute later the blonde looked up and smiled. "Go on back, Mr. Bailey. Have you been here before?"

"No, I haven't."

Once again he got the smile. She pointed at the door to her right. "Take this door all the way down the hall and turn right at the third office. That's Mr. LaMar's."

"Thank you."

He did as instructed and turned right at the third door. The sound of the dry-cleaning machines could be heard everywhere. A middle-aged man with little hair and a pair of glasses looked up. Then he stood and extended his hand. "Mr. Bailey, I'm Harry LaMar. Mrs. Moran told me you would come to see us." They shook hands and Stu sat down. LaMar did the same. "Tell me how I can help you."

"Tell me about last Wednesday morning, Mr. LaMar."

"Harry, please. That's what everyone calls me. I came in early, as usual, and Mr. Moran got here about nine-thirty. Dave Debauchery said he saw Mr. Moran and everything seemed normal. Dave's our plant manager. Mr. Moran stuck his head in here and said hello, and that was the last I saw of him."

"He didn't say anything to you when he left?"

LaMar shook his head. "I didn't even know he was gone, Mr. Bailey. I thought he was still in his office. I was supposed to have lunch with him to go over the quarterly reports and I was just as surprised as the next man when Mallory told me he was gone."

"Mallory is the receptionist?"

"Yes, sir. You'll want to talk to both her and Dave. They can give you more information."

Stu pulled out a cigarette and his lighter. "Do you mind if I smoke?"

"Go right ahead."

The P.I. lit his cigarette before asking, "What kind of a boss was Moran?"

Harry looked pleased. "Just the best. Mr. Moran was the kind of man that we all hope to work for. Generous to a fault, he gave good raises, bonuses at Christmas, birthday parties, a Christmas party, and if there was anything you needed, Mr. Moran would give it to you if he could. He was always pleasant and easy to get along with."

"And Mrs. Moran?" That was a loaded question, and Stu knew it. But he needed somebody's opinion besides his own.

"She's the sweetest lady. And you could see how much they loved each other. I don't think you'll find a single soul who would have a bad word to say about her."

Stu finished his cigarette and stood. "Thanks for your help, Harry."

"Anything else you need, Mr. Bailey, just let me know." They shook hands and Stu left, wending his way back up the hall. He stopped at the receptionist's desk again.

"Mallory?"

"Yes, sir."

"What can you tell me about last Wednesday?"

She gave him that smile again. "Wait just a moment, Mr. Bailey. I'll get my backup here and we can talk in the break room." Mallory made a phone call and in just a minute a petite brunette took over the desk. "Follow me, please," and she led the way in another door and down another hallway. The break room didn't look like anything Stu had ever seen. Colorful walls with Zippy Dry-Cleaning posters hung around the room, there were two full-size refrigerators, an oven, a sink, and individual wall lockers. The chairs were cushioned and the room was spotless. "Have a seat, Mr. Bailey."

Stu complied. He had the feeling this was going to be an interesting interview.


	3. Chapter 3

The Legend of Joe Moran

Chapter 3

Stu asked the same question of Mallory that he'd asked of Harry. "What do you know about last Wednesday?"

There was that smile again. _Did the girl do anything else_? Stu wondered. "It seemed like a typical workday morning. Mr. Moran came in around nine-thirty, said good morning and went back to his office. At least I think he went back to his office. It was about fifteen minutes later when he came back out carrying his briefcase, told me goodbye and said he'd be back later. I never saw him again."

Very much like what Harry LaMar told him. Either it was the truth or they'd been well-rehearsed. The only way to find out which was to keep asking questions. "What was it like working for Joe Moran?"

"It was just the best. When I started here I didn't have any work experience, but Mr. Moran hired me anyway. Then he had the lady that was leaving train me and within six months he gave me a raise. I just really liked him."

"And Mrs. Moran?" The same loaded question. What exactly was he expecting to hear? That she was a monster, an ogre of some sort? That she couldn't stand her husband and didn't hesitate to show it?

"She seemed nice enough. I didn't know her very well, but I never heard anything bad about her."

Stuart wasn't about to give up, just in case he could get Mallory to say something unexpected. "Anything else you'd care to tell me?"

Mallory shook her head. "No, sir, nothing except I've really enjoyed working here. I hope you find Mr. Moran and that's he's alright." She looked at him expectantly. "If you'd like, I'll send Mr. Debauchery in and you can talk to him. He's usually out in the plant, and it's too noisy out there to hear anything."

"I'd appreciate that Mallory. Thank you for your time." He watched the blonde walk away. In Stu's opinion, she walked like somebody that was telling the truth. That was all he could go by at this point; he'd learned to read people pretty well over the years and she didn't seem to have any reason to lie. He sat there for almost ten minutes before the door opened and Dave Debauchery, the plant manager, walked in. Average height, average weight, average coloring. Overall, the very picture of average. Stu stood up.

"Please, Mr. Bailey, sit down. I'm Dave Debauchery, and I would welcome a chance to get off my feet."

"Call me Stu. What I have to ask is very simple. What happened last Wednesday?" _Let's see if I get the_ _same answers,_ Stu thought.

"Well, I was out in the plant when Joe got here, but I stopped in to see him about twenty to ten. He was putting something in his briefcase, and I figured he was going out to see one of the stores. He was a little short with me, not at all normal for him, and asked what I wanted. I told him the machine on line seven was making funny noises and I wanted to get the repair crew to look at it; he told me to go ahead and get it taken care of. I asked if he was going out to see one of the stores and he didn't answer me. Then I asked when he'd be back and he told me later. That's all he said, later. He left the office and I followed him down the hall; then he went out the front door and I saw him drive away."

"Which way did he go, Dave?"

"South, Stu. Back down LaCienaga. We all waited for him to come back but he never did."

"Were his actions out of character for him?" Just as he'd done with Mallory and Harry, Stu was digging for the unexpected.

The average plant manager nodded an average nod. "Very much so. Joe was always in a good mood, no matter what was going on around here."

"How long has Zippy been in business?" He probably should have asked Harry that question, but frankly it hadn't occurred to him. It wasn't normal for Stu to allow things to get by him like that.

"Quite a while. It started as one small store with a little plant in back right after the war, and just kept growing."

Something in the answer made him ask the next question. "Was Joe Moran the man that started the business?" And Stu finally got the nugget of information he'd been searching for.

"No, Joe bought the company lock, stock, and barrel almost four years ago. Sal Romano started that first store."

Joe Moran had bought the business almost four years ago. Right before he'd married Audrey. More digging. "What had he done before he bought Zippy? Do you know?"

Dave looked like he was thinking for a minute before he answered. "I seem to remember him saying that he'd owned a similar business, in Phoenix I believe it was."

There it was at last. Almost as good as a gold mine, Stu had the information he'd been seeking. Somewhere to go and begin to unravel this mystery that seemed to be Joe Moran.

XXXXXXXX

Stu went back to the office and had Suzanne call the airlines. Jeff's door was open and Stu stuck his head in the office. "Sorry, partner, I have to take a pass on dinner tonight. I'm flying to Phoenix."

"Phoenix? What's in Phoenix?"

"I don't know yet. Maybe something, maybe nothing. But it's all I've got right now."

Jeff knew better than to ask any more questions. If Stu had additional information he would have given it freely. "What should I say if Audrey Moran calls?"

"Tell her where I am and I'll be in touch as soon as I get back." Audrey was going to have to settle for that answer for now. He couldn't tell her anything she didn't already know.

His intercom buzzed. "Stuart, I have you on a flight to Phoenix in forty-five minutes. Will that work?"

Stu kept a suitcase already packed in his office for just such situations. "It will. I'll be out in a minute." He turned back to his partner. "Got to go, old boy. I'll call you if anything comes up."

Thirty minutes later Stu was at the airport boarding Western Airlines Flight 672 non-stop to Phoenix. In less than two hours he'd be in a city looking for a man that might have had a business there some four or so years ago. He started going over everything he'd learned today and it made him wonder . . . just who was Joe Moran? And where had he vanished to? He didn't realize how tired he was until he heard the stewardess announcing they'd be arriving in Phoenix in just a few minutes, and he realized he'd fallen asleep.

He rented a car at the airport and drove into the city. Phoenix was lit up like a Christmas tree, and Stu went to the Westward Ho Hotel in downtown and checked in. It was too late in the day to go anywhere, so he went downstairs to the dining room and had dinner. After his meal and brandy, he went back to his room and began his search of the phone book. There were several small to medium dry-cleaning establishment, one even named Joe's Dry Cleaners. He could check them out in the morning.

Of more interest was what he found in the residential listings. There was a P. Moran at 4375 Terrwood, in North Phoenix. He copied the phone number and closed the book. He thought he'd be awake after his nap on the airplane, but he found himself yawning and gazing longingly at the bed. Sleep seemed like a better idea than trying to stay awake; he got into his pajamas, got into bed and turned off the light. As he drifted off into sleep he had visions of chasing an unknown man down the city streets of Hollywood. It occurred to him in the haze of slumber it was probably the man he was searching for, the mysterious Joe Moran.


	4. Chapter 4

The Legend of Joe Moran

Chapter 4

Stuart woke with a start, convinced there was someone in his room. He lay still in the dark for a good fifteen minutes before he dared move and turn on the light. The room was empty, save for the occupant of the bed. He wasn't one to imagine boogeymen that weren't really there, but he'd been certain he wasn't alone. _Maybe_, he thought, _it was the spirit of Joe Moran_. That would mean Moran was dead, and somehow Stu didn't believe that.

He looked at his watch, lying on the nightstand. Twenty after four in the morning. There was nothing to do at this time of the night but go back to sleep, and try as he might he wasn't able to accomplish that. He got out of bed and retrieved the book he always carried with him for circumstances just like this. _L'Étranger_, (The Stranger in the original French) by Albert Camus was the volume he currently had with him, and he tried to pick up where he'd left off the last time, but that was no good, either. He couldn't concentrate enough to make any sense of what he was trying to read. That was when he noticed the television set in the room and wondered if there was anything on in the middle of the night. He got back out of bed and turned the tv on, to find nothing but static and test patterns. The set was quickly turned off.

Stu lay back down and began to examine what he'd learned about Moran so far. The man was loved by his wife, a beautiful redhead named Audrey, beloved by his employees, and gone. Just gone. Where does a man go when he wants to disappear? Perhaps to Mexico? If that's what had happened, Stu might never find him. Once he'd given his mind something to think about besides going back to sleep, that was exactly what he did.

The next time he woke it was morning, and daylight was streaming through the curtains he'd left open last night. He yawned, stretched, and finally picked up his watch. Ten minutes of eight. At least now he could get out of bed and get ready for the day ahead.

Stu showered, shaved, and got dressed. Then he made sure he'd written down the data he'd need for today. Joe's Dry Cleaner's address and phone and P. Moran's address and phone. Joe's was a good place to start. He had to call the office before he went anywhere; in case there was something he was needed for. Suzanne answered, as always.

"Good morning, Bailey and Spencer."

"Suzanne, it's Stu." It was always good to hear her voice, no matter where he was or how long he'd been gone.

"Good morning, Stuart. Jeff just came through the door."

"Let me speak with him, please." Jeff must have come in early to cover Stu's absence.

"Hey, Stu, how's Phoenix?" There was another voice he enjoyed hearing. Jeff was almost always cheerful; Stu was reminded once again how lucky he was to have Spencer for a partner.

"Warm and dry, my friend. Any important messages?"

"Audrey Moran called like you knew she would, and I told her you'd tell her everything when you got back from Phoenix. Then her only question was, when will that be? I told her you'd be back when you were finished." Jeff laughed; they'd both known Audrey would call asking questions.

"Nothing else happening?" Stu didn't know if that was good or bad. He always worried when business was slow.

"Yes, Higgins sent his documents by currier; looks like it's going to be a good case. And Charlie Rose called, wants you to call him when you get back. Something about a forged painting. That's all from yesterday. It's too early here for the chickens to be up yet."

That caused Stu to laugh; things seemed to be proceeding as normal. "Alright, Jeff, I'll call you tonight. Don't get lost in Higgins paperwork, you know how he is."

"Alright, take care, dad."

"You, too, youngster." Stu hung up the receiver and considered his next move.

He was going to skip breakfast and just grab a cup of coffee, then thought better of it. He'd probably be gone all day and might not have another chance to eat, so he stopped in the dining room. A sweet-looking little blonde brought him coffee and a menu, and he watched her walk back to the kitchen before turning his attention to what originally brought him there. By the time she returned with the coffee pot he'd decided. "Eggs over easy, two strips of bacon, and whole-wheat toast, dry."

She poured him another cup of coffee and Stu noticed her name tag. It said _Barbara._ "Barbara, I'm new in town and I'm looking for a friend of mine that I've lost touch with. Seems to me he owned a dry cleaners. His name is Joe Moran. Do you think it might be Joe's Dry Cleaners?"

"It could be, but if it is he doesn't own it anymore. Doug Paulson is the owner now. But you might check with him. I don't think he's had it too long." Barbara smiled at him and made her way around the room, pouring coffee for the other diners.

By the time he was finished with breakfast he was more than ready to get started. He bought a map of Phoenix from the drugstore across the street and looked up Bluebird Road, where Joe's was located. It wasn't hard to find and Stu was there in just a few minutes. He parked and headed for the front door.

"Is Doug Paulson in?" he asked the woman who met him at the counter.

"Yes, sir. Can I tell him who wants to see him?"

Stu handed her his business card and told her, "Stuart Bailey." While Stu put his cardholder away, the woman walked into the back and disappeared between the rows of dry cleaning. She was gone almost five minutes and Stu began to fidget with his fingernails while he waited. The man that emerged from between the same racks the woman had disappeared behind was, he assumed, Paulson.

"Mr. Bailey, I'm Doug Paulson. What can I do for you? It's not often we get a Private Investigator from Hollywood here in Phoenix." Paulson was mid-thirties, as tall as Stu but somewhat heavier, with curly brown hair and glasses. He wore a broad smile and made Stu wonder if he'd ever again see anyone not smiling.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions if that would be alright with you, Mr. Paulson," Stu explained in a casual voice. His goal was to make the questions seem as routine as possible.

Another smile, this time not so broad. There was an edge of nervousness in the voice that hadn't been there before. "Sure. Do you mind if I ask what you're looking for?"

"Just trying to find an old friend that someone's lost track of." Stu paused for a moment to let that sink in. _See, nothing to be frightened of_ was the message he wanted to convey. "How long have you owned the business?"

"Oh," Paulson answered in relief. "Let's see, if I remember right, it's been just about five years since I bought the place."

"Who did you buy it from?" That was the money question, and Stu knew not to appear too anxious to know the answer.

"That's easy. I bought it from Art Henry. Art wanted to retire and move to Florida, and I got it for a good price."

Not the answer Stu was hoping for. On to a different line of questioning. "Are there any other dry cleaners that you're aware of named Joe's?" He couldn't possibly get lucky and get the right answer, could he?

"Not anymore, Mr. Bailey, but there was. Downtown, on Desert Road, it's called Speedy Cleaners. But it used to be Joe's a while back."

"Do you remember how long ago?" Stu pulled out his cigarette case to light a cigarette and then thought better of it.

"Maybe three, four years. They changed the name when it got sold."

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Paulson." Stu offered his hand in a friendly gesture and Paulson responded in kind. Two minutes later Stu was back in his car looking at his map and smoking that previously delayed cigarette. He found Desert Road on the other side of his hotel and down several blocks. Another minute to start the engine and he was on his way. Hopefully, this stop would prove to be the business he was looking for.


	5. Chapter 5

The Legend of Joe Moran

Chapter 5

Desert Road proved to be an excellent name for the street. The far side of the Westward Ho, where the store was located, was nothing but businesses and desert as far as the eye could see. Phoenix was a rapidly growing city, and this section of town seemed to be fairly new. Fifteen minutes later Stu was pulling into the Speedy parking lot.

This time a man came to the counter. "Can I help you, sir?"

"Who owns Speedy Dry Cleaners?" Stu asked. He wasn't quite expecting the answer he got.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Why?" The counterman was short and balding, with a small mustache. His clothes were, however, neatly pressed.

He once again pulled out his identification and gave the man a business card. "I'm Stuart Bailey, and I'm looking for someone. Someone named Joe Moran. Does that name ring any bells with you?"

"It does indeed, Mr. Bailey. I'm Hugh Dunston, by the way. I bought Speedy from Joe Moran some four years ago. The place was named Joe's at the time. Nothing's wrong with Joe, is there?"

"Not as far as I know. What did you know about Moran before you bought Joe's from him?" That was more information than Stu normally gave out, but Dunston seemed genuinely concerned and Stu didn't see any harm in it.

"Not a whole lot. He was in a hurry to sell and he gave me a good price. Said he was going to Florida to retire. I checked out all his claims about the business, of course, and they were all accurate. All his employees hated to see him leave. I kept them all on, of course. Since you're from California, I take it Joe went there instead of Florida."

"Do you know how long he owned the place?" Stuart adeptly avoided answering Dunston's question. He was beginning to see a pattern emerge.

Hugh nodded. "Four years, he told me. Is he in trouble of some sort?"

"No sir, that's not what this is all about. Did he have any relatives here that you know of?"

"I don't rightly know. I think he was married, but I never met her. Don't even know her name."

Stu hesitated, but asked the question anyway. "You don't happen to know where he lived before he came to Phoenix, do you?"

Hugh scratched his head. "Let me think. I know he told me one time. Was it . . . no, it wasn't there. Or maybe . . . not there either. Sorry Mr. Bailey, I just can't remember."

"Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Dunston." Stu turned to go and got three steps from the door when he heard a cry and turned around.

"Terra Haute, Mr. Bailey! It was Terra Haute! I knew I'd remember it!"

"Are you sure?" The last thing that Stu wanted to do was try to find some trace of Joe Moran in Terra Haute if Dunston wasn't certain.

"Yes sir, I'm positive." There was conviction in Dunston's voice. Stu sighed. He knew another trip was in his future.

He sat in his car and lit a cigarette. Where was this investigation going? Stu blew a cloud of smoke out and pulled out his notebook. P. Moran, 4375 Terrwood. Paula Moran, or Paul Moran? Relative or not? He sat and pondered everything he'd learned so far while he smoked. When he was done with his cigarette he pulled out his map and looked up Terrwood. In North Phoenix, he started the car and drove out of the parking lot headed to meet, he hoped, P. Moran.

Once again he was impressed with how much the city had grown since the last time he was in Phoenix. It seemed there was going to be another thriving city in the desert of the southwest.

When Stu got into North Phoenix he had a bit of trouble finding Terrwood, but after two or three wrong turns he finally located the street. It was an older, well-established neighborhood, but every house appeared to be well maintained. 4375 was down towards the end of the street, and Stu pulled up in front of a terra-cotta house with palm trees and cactus in the front yard. He parked on the street and got out of the car, heading for the front door.

He knocked and waited. After one or two minutes there was no answer and he knocked again. A female voice asked, "Who is it?"

"My name is Stuart Bailey and I'm looking for P. Moran." He began to think he was going to be ignored when the door slowly opened, revealing the person that went with the voice. A woman who looked to be in her forties stood on the other side of the open door. He was surprised when he realized she was a redhead, very much like Audrey Moran. She wore her hair on top of her head and was a noticeably attractive woman. She was dressed as the average housewife might be, but her clothing was undoubtedly a cut above average. "I'm a private investigator from California and I have some questions I'd like to ask P. Moran. Is that you, ma'am?" At the same time he handed her his business card, which he had retrieved while he was waiting for an answer to his knock. When she'd examined that and looked up he showed her his investigator's license.

"Yes, I'm Phyllis Moran. What is this about, Mr. Bailey?" she asked calmly.

"Do you know or know of a Joe Moran?" Stuart questioned her.

Phyllis Moran laughed for a moment before answering him. "I should, Mr. Bailey. I'm his ex-wife. Won't you come in?" Stu followed Mrs. Moran in and closed the door behind him. "Won't you have a seat, Mr. Bailey?"

The room was furnished in a tasteful and rather expensive-looking manner. Stu glanced around quickly and then took a seat on the couch.

"Would you like some coffee, Mr. Bailey? I just made a fresh pot. I also have some homemade cinnamon rolls. Would you like one?"

"That would be most welcome, Mrs. Moran. The coffee, I mean, not the cinnamon roll. Thank you."

It took her just a few minutes, and when Mrs. Moran returned she carried an elegant silver tray with an equally elegant coffee pot and cups. She set the tray on the coffee table that stood in front of the couch and asked Stu, "Do you need cream or sugar, Mr. Bailey?"

"No, ma'am. I take my coffee black, thank you." Moran's ex-wife poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Stu.

Mrs. Moran smiled. "Just like Joe. So, Mr. Bailey. Tell me why you're looking for information about Joe Moran."

Stu took a sip of coffee and set his cup down. He had to word his answer carefully; there was only so much he could reveal. "I have been engaged to find out what I can about Mr. Moran."

Phyllis Moran looked startled. "By whom, if I might ask?"

Stu shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Moran, I can't divulge that."

The ex-wife appeared satisfied, even though she didn't have her question answered. "What is it you want to know, Mr. Bailey?"

"How long were you and Joe married?"

"Mmm, maybe three years."

"And when were you married?"

A smile from Mrs. Moran again. "On August 26, 1952."

Stu proceeded down his list of questions. "Here in Phoenix?"

"Yes." She poured herself another cup of coffee and offered a refill to Stu. He shook his head.

"No, thank you. And what was Mr. Moran's business at the time?"

"He owned a dry cleaning business, a small store that he expanded twice during our marriage."

"Is that the store that is now known as Speedy's?"

"Yes sir, it is."

"And did Mr. Moran sell the dry cleaning business while you were still married?"

"Yes."

Stu had to pursue a line of questioning that might be uncomfortable for his hostess. He hoped to make it as painless as possible. He took another swallow of coffee and cleared his throat before proceeding. "Do you know what he did with those funds?"

Phyllis Moran didn't hesitate to answer. "He gave me part of it and kept the rest."

"How much did he give you, Mrs. Moran?"

"Is that pertinent to your investigation, Mr. Bailey?" It seemed a perfectly reasonable question on Mrs. Moran's part.

Stuart nodded his head. "Yes ma'am, it is. You have a nice home, with lovely furnishings, and are dressed quite well. Do you work outside the home, ma'am?"

"Yes, Mr. Bailey, I own a small floral shop about three blocks from here. I only stop by occasionally. I have a quite capable manager who runs things."

"That's the reason I asked the question regarding how much your ex-husband gave you. I'm trying to establish if Mr. Moran had enough money left to start or buy another business somewhere else in the country."

"I see. He gave me over ten-thousand dollars, Mr. Bailey. That would have left him a little over fifteen thousand dollars."

Stu cleared his throat again and checked his notes before asking the next questions. "When did Mr. Moran leave Phoenix? Do you know?"

"No sir, I do not. Mr. Moran left me within a week of selling his business, and I never looked for him after that."

"Why was that, Mrs. Moran?" Didn't it seem logical that a wife would try to find the husband that left? It certainly did to Stu, but he knew that one could never accuse women of being logical. He amended that thought. One could never accuse all women of being logical.

"He left me, Mr. Bailey. Or rather, he just vanished one day. If you are a man that cares for someone you don't just vanish. So, it didn't matter where he'd vanished to, even if it was in Phoenix. He left me. After a reasonable length of time, I divorced him." Phyllis Moran sounded quite smug, and extremely confident that she'd done the right thing. "Would you like any more coffee?" She asked, picking up the coffee pot.

Stu picked up his coffee cup and held it out. "Yes, ma'am, one more cup would be perfect." Mrs. Moran poured while he asked her another question. "What did you consider a reasonable length of time, Mrs. Moran?"

"Sixty days, Mr. Bailey. Sixty days was all I was willing to wait before freeing myself from that . . . that rat. That's what he was, you know. A rat in sheep's clothing."

Sixty days. He'd have to check Arizona divorce laws, but there was a possibility that Audrey's marriage to Joe was illegal. He sat back and drank what was in his cup. "You make excellent coffee, Mrs. Moran."

"Why thank you, Mr. Bailey. Are you sure you wouldn't like something to go with that? I still have those cinnamon rolls in the kitchen."

There was something about Phyllis Moran that Stu liked, even felt comfortable with. That was unusual for people he spent time questioning. He was almost tempted to take the proffered roll just to stay there a few more minutes. Instead, he finished his coffee and set the cup down. He had to call the office and have Jeff find out how long it took to obtain a divorce in Arizona. "Thank you, but no. One final question, Mrs. Moran. Do you know where Joe lived before he came to Phoenix?"

"Why, I believe he was from Terra Haute, Mr. Bailey."

Stu got up from the couch. "I want to thank you, Mrs. Moran, for your cooperation and your answers. You've helped me a great deal."

"Please don't hesitate to stop by again if you have any more questions. It's not often I have visitors at the house, Mr. Bailey, and you are quite pleasant company. Even if I did have to think about . . .him."

"Thank you again, ma'am," Stu told her. "I don't think I have any more questions, but just in case . . . I shall." What was it about Phyllis Moran that drew Stu's attention? She was attractive, but no great beauty. Not like some of the women he'd dated. No, there was just something about her that made him feel . . . at ease. Comfortable. Like a pair of old slippers. With that on his mind he left the Moran residence and got into his car. He pulled out a cigarette and his lighter and in just a minute he was blowing smoke out. Out of nowhere it occurred to him that he hadn't smoked a single cigarette while he was with Phyllis Moran. He hadn't even thought about smoking one, or pulling out his pipe. And he could have sat there the rest of the day and been perfectly content.

Stu shook his head and took another drag on his smoke. He started the car and pulled away from the Moran house, taking one more look back. Phyllis Moran was still standing at the front door watching him.


	6. Chapter 6

The Legend of Joe Moran

Chapter 6

Stu drove back to the hotel, still wondering about the feelings he'd experienced at Phyllis Moran's. He wanted to tell somebody, to talk it out and see if he could figure it out, and the logical person to discuss it with would be Jeff. At the same time he was worried that Jeff would think him crazy or worse yet, laugh. He had to call the office anyway and talk to his partner, but he decided not to mention the odd experience.

"Stu, Phoenix treating you any better this afternoon?"

"No, Jeff, not really. Can you find out something for me?" Stu sat down on the bed and waited for Jeff's answer.

"Sure. Anything."

"How long does it take to get a divorce in Arizona? What I mean is, how long do you have to wait after you file before the divorce is final?"

There was just a touch of concern in Jeff's voice, like he was worried Stuart had done something rash. "Is this for the case you're working on?"

"Of course. Did you think it was for me?" His partner should know him better than that, although he had done some unexplainable things during their partnership. He took out his cigarette case, pulled one out and lit it.

"Well . . . "

"Has our friend Audrey called again?" Stu blew smoke out, he was beginning to feel more like himself.

"No, she's been a good girl. When are you coming back?"

Stuart hesitated for just a moment before answering Jeff. He didn't expect his partner was going to be any too happy with him. "I'm not. I'm going to Terra Haute."

"Indiana?"

"That's the only one I know of. Listen I'll explain everything the next time we talk. Transfer me over to Suzanne, would you?" There was a minute or two delay; Suzanne must have been answering another line.

"Hello, Stuart. Do you need something?"

"I do. Can you find out when the next plane from Phoenix to Terra Haute, Indiana leaves and get me on it?" He could be packed and ready to leave the hotel in ten minutes.

"Do you want to hold?"

"I do. I mean I will."

Suzanne giggled. "I'll be back."

One minute passed, then two, then the third one, before Suzanne was back. "The next flight out of Phoenix isn't until tomorrow morning at eight o'clock. That's TWA Flight 26, Gate 12, and you're booked on it. Is there anything else you need, Stuart?"

"No, Suzanne. Tell Jeff I'll call him when I get to Terra Haute."

"Au Revoir, Stuart."

Stu hung up the phone and finished smoking his cigarette. He'd shower tonight and shave in the morning. Stu's beard was dense enough that if he shaved tonight he'd still have to shave again tomorrow. He checked his watch. Six-thirty. No wonder his stomach was growling. He closed and locked the door behind him and caught the elevator down to the main floor. The dining room was almost full but there was still a table over in the corner. "One for dinner?" the hostess asked.

"Yes, please." He followed her halfway before he thought about something to read. "Do you have a Phoenix newspaper, Miss?"

"I can get you one, sir. I'll leave the menu with you and be right back with the paper."

The waitress had already brought him a scotch by the time the hostess returned with the paper. "Sorry it took so long."

"That's alright. Thank you." Stu glanced at the front page before folding the paper and taking a sip of the scotch. It looked very much like the Los Angeles Times. A murder and news about the upcoming election, neither of which interested him right now. He turned to the society pages, not sure what he was looking for. At the bottom of page three there was a small ad for _Phyllis's Flowers_, located at the corner of Terrwood and Driscoll. _Proprietor Phyllis Moran_ was written right below the phone number. Stu folded the section back up and set it aside, then began perusing the sports pages. When the waitress came back he ordered a New York Steak, medium rare, a baked potato with butter on the side and a cup of beef barley soup. "Oh, and a dinner roll too, please."

He'd finished the sports section and gone back to the front page by the time his soup arrived. He'd seen enough murder in LA and read the column about the election instead. It seemed like a fascinating matchup between the incumbent Vice-President and a fledgling Senator. It wasn't long before his dinner arrived, and he folded the paper and enjoyed his meal. Besides, his mind was too full of Joe Moran. Wondering about the man that married two attractive redheads and vanished on them both seemed like the beginning of a mystery. But why he'd left them was beyond Stu.

When he was finished with dinner he ordered a brandy. He was too preoccupied to notice the attractive blonde three tables away that kept staring at him and smiling. It was one of the few times Stuart Bailey failed to see a well-built woman staring at his handsome good looks. When the check came he signed his room number, picked up the society section he'd folded up earlier, and left the restaurant.

For just a moment he considered stopping in the bar for another brandy but changed his mind when he thought about catching an 8 a.m. plane for, of all places, Terra Haute, Indiana. When he got back to his room he laid out the clothes he intended to wear tomorrow, got undressed and took a shower. Once dry and in his pajamas he packed everything in his suitcase, including the society section he brought from downstairs, and left it open for his pj's in the morning. Then he took his shaving kit into the bathroom, set it on the sink and went back to the bed. He called the front desk and left a wake-up call for six, got into bed and fell asleep within minutes. He spent his sleeping hours dreaming about Audrey and Phyllis Moran.


	7. Chapter 7

The Legend of Joe Moran

Chapter 7

The plane landed in Terra Haute close to nine a.m. local time, after almost four hours of flying time. Stu repeated the actions he took upon arriving in Phoenix; rented a car and drove into town, looking for the Great Northern Hotel. Once found he parked and checked in, ending up in a room that he considered quite luxurious by usual standards.

Stu settled into his room and started to make a call when he looked at his watch. Jeff would be asleep and Stu wasn't about to wake him. Instead he went downstairs looking for a restaurant or coffee shop where he could get something to eat. He found what he was looking for and he got a newspaper from the front desk before waiting to be seated. The standard question, "One for breakfast, sir?" And he answered in the affirmative. The hostess seated him at a table next to a window.

Coffee came first, followed by 'farm fresh eggs' poached and melon. He opened the paper, looking for ads of any kind that might give him something to go on. The first thing he stumbled across was an advertisement for _Terry's Dry Cleaners_, _In Terre Haute for Over Twenty Years_. It was located at Tenth and Main, not far from the Great Northern. Stu went through the rest of the paper and found nothing else of interest.

By the time he finished breakfast it was past ten-thirty; he signed for his food and returned to his room. Now he sat on the bed and picked up the receiver, asking the operator for a long-distance call to California. Jeff's phone rang four times before he answered. "This better be Stu Bailey."

"It was the last time I checked. How are you, Jeff?" Stu said with a chuckle. While he waited for an answer he pulled out his cigarette case and his lighter.

"Asleep," came the mumbled reply. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes, sir, its seven-forty," Stu answered as he lit the cigarette he'd been holding. He took a drag on his smoke while he waited for that to sink in. Not being at home meant he didn't know if Jeff was working too hard or dating too hard. It wasn't like his partner to sleep this late when Stu was out of town on a case.

"Are you kidding me? My clock says four a.m. It must have died during the night. I meant to be in the office by this time. Can I call you back when I get there?" There was a note of frustration in Jeff's voice; Stu could hear it almost two-thousand miles away.

"How long's it going to take you? I want to get out of the hotel and go see what I can find."

"Maybe an hour," his partner answered. Jeff would prefer it to be less time than that, but he still had to shower, shave, get dressed and drive to the office. He hoped Stu would wait; he really wanted to hear what Bailey had uncovered that had taken him from California to Phoenix to Terre Haute. It didn't sound as if Stu had any appointments set up, so it was possible Jeff's dying alarm clock wouldn't have an adverse effect on Stuart's day.

Stu had been up early enough in the day that a one hour nap sounded delicious. "No problem. Just don't get tied up anywhere so that it's a lot longer. I'm at the Great Northern Hotel, room two-twenty-six. Good enough?"

"You've got it, Stu. I'll be back in touch." Jeff hung up the phone and glared at his alarm clock that still read four a.m. "You can be replaced, buster," and he picked up the clock and threw it in the wastebasket on his way to the bathroom. "Damn." He'd had every intention of being in the office when Stu called, and thanks to his little buddy he'd over-slept instead. He stripped quickly, turned on the water and got in. Instead of his usual leisurely shower he scrubbed everything as fast as he could, turned everything off and grabbed a towel. As soon as he was dry he wrapped the towel around his waist, picked up his razor and shaved. When he finished he took a minute to make sure there were no nicks or cuts. When his face came up smooth and clean he hurried into his bedroom to dress.

Ten minutes later Jeff was out the door. He'd send Suzanne over for coffee as soon as she got to the office. Knowing Suzanne as well as he did, she'd probably beat him there. Kookie was working nights this week so he pulled in back and parked his own car. He hurried around to the front door and found it unlocked. He was right, Suzanne had beaten him to work. Again. "Bonjour, Jeff."

"Good morning, Suzanne. My alarm died last night and I overslept. Can you go over to Dino's and get us both a large coffee? And remind me to give you money at lunch. I need a new alarm clock. Preferably one that doesn't quit in the middle of the night."

Suzanne giggled and got up from her chair. "Can you watch the switchboard, please?"

"Of course. But I'd rather watch you." Suzanne giggled again, but Jeff did watch her as she left the office. He sat down at the switchboard, knowing that as soon as he started for his office someone would call in. Since he was right there it was quiet as a mouse, and Suzanne was back in no time with two coffees and a sweet roll. "Oh, that smells good," he told her as he stood to give her back her seat.

"The coffee or the roll?" Suzanne asked, sitting down and putting on her headset.

"Both," was the answer.

"Good, because I got it for you. You didn't have any breakfast, did you?" she inquired knowingly.

Jeff took his coffee and the sweet roll. "You're an angel, and you have my undying gratitude." Gripping the coffee tightly, he went to his office and sat down. He looked at his watch. One hour and five minutes since Stu woke him. He set the coffee down and took a bite of the roll before doing anything else. Andres sweet rolls were the stuff legends were made of. He pushed the intercom. "Suzanne, get me the Great Northern Hotel in Terre Haute, room two-twenty-six."

"Oui, Jeff."

He got in one swallow of coffee and another bite of his roll before the intercom buzzed. "I have Stuart on line one."

"Stu, it took me a little longer but here I am, in the office and ready to hear what you've found out about Joe Moran." There was no response. "Stu. Stu." Jeff held onto the receiver but buzzed Suzanne back. "I thought you said Stu was on line one."

"He was, but he sounded like I'd woken him. Try him again; he must have fallen back asleep." Suzanne's switchboard rang and she answered the incoming call.

"Stuart," Jeff practically shouted into the receiver.

"Oh. Jefferson. Sorry, I laid down to take a nap and the next thing I knew my phone was ringing. I must have fallen asleep with the receiver in my hand."

"What time were you up this morning?" Jeff asked, while he proceeded to take another bite of his roll.

"Six. I had to be to get to the airport on time. I suppose you want to hear what I've learned so far," he remarked as he sat up.

"Before you end up in Wisconsin somewhere."

"Don't joke, it wouldn't surprise me." Stu loosened his tie further and wished he had another cup of coffee. "You know the story up to the dry cleaning plant in California. The manager there told me he thought that Moran had come from Phoenix, so I hopped on the next plane. After some nifty detective work," Stu paused. "That's where you're supposed to laugh."

"Oh. Ha, ha," Jeff countered back.

"Anyway, I found the dry cleaners Moran owned in Phoenix and the current owner told me Joe said he'd moved there from Terre Haute. I also found Phyllis Moran, Joe's ex-wife. She divorced him about three and a half years ago. She confirmed that they'd come there from Terre Haute. She's the reason I wanted to know about divorce laws in Phoenix. What did you find out?"

"Concerned about the legality of Audrey Moran's marriage? Well, you can quit worrying. It was legal. Divorces in Arizona are final thirty days after they're filed. The only place that allows divorce as quickly is Nevada." Jeff tucked that little nugget away, just in case they ever needed it again.

"Whew. By the skin of his teeth," Stu breathed a sigh of relief.

"But how would he know that? Or maybe he didn't care," Jeff suggested.

"It would be easy enough to find out. All he had to do was contact court records to find out when Phyllis had filed." Stu decided this morning when he got up that he still wanted to talk to Jeff about the strange effect Phyllis Moran had on him. But it still needed to be face to face. "Listen Jeff, there's something I want to ask you when I get back."

"Are you going to tell me what it is. Or do you want me to guess?"

"Neither," Stu answered. "I want to wait until I'm back in Hollywood."

Jeff made a kind of huffing sound and Stu could just see him smirking. "Is it about a woman?"

"In an odd manner of speaking, yes."

"You have piqued my curiosity, dad. I shall honor your wishes and wait until I can harass you in person."

Stu felt better. Now Jeff knew something was bothering his partner, and he might be more receptive to listening without laughing. "Alright, I have to get going. I'll call tonight if I can."

"Come home soon, would you. I can't talk to your desk and I need some help with Higgins insurance fraud."

"As soon as I can."

Stu hung up the phone and went into the bathroom. He splashed water on his face and grabbed the nearest towel to dry off with. Then he straightened his tie and went back into the bedroom to get his coat. He grabbed the small phone book from the nightstand drawer and took it with him. His first visit would be to Terry's Dry Cleaners.


	8. Chapter 8

The Legend of Joe Moran

Chapter 8

"Good afternoon," Stu greeted the young man that came to the counter in Terry's Dry Cleaners. "Is the owner on the premises?"

"Yes, she is. That would be my mom. Hold on a minute," the boy answered and turned towards the back of the cleaners. "Mom!" he yelled. "Some man wants to see you!"

A still attractive redhead came rushing up front. "How many times have I told you not to yell, young man?" she chastised the boy before she saw Stu. "Oh, I'm sorry. Were you the man looking for the owner?"

"Yes, I am. I'm Stuart Bailey, here's my card," as he handed her his business card. He had the feeling this woman was going to be another Moran.

"Private Investigator from Hollywood, California. I didn't think you people really existed."

"Private Investigators or Hollywood?" He asked with a chuckle.

"Yes," she answered, laughing. "I'm – "

"Terry Moran," Stuart answered.

"I used to be, a very long time ago. Now I'm Terry O'Bannon. But how did you know . . . "

"An educated guess, Mrs. O'Bannon." He waited to ask his first question until she gave him some kind of an indication that it would be alright to go ahead.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Bailey? I'm sure you didn't come all the way from California just to find out if I'd remarried." Terry Moran O'Bannon looked at this man with something akin to curiosity. Besides, she considered, he was nice to look at. He was slim but not too thin, well-dressed, with beautiful black hair and a handsome face. No, she didn't mind looking at him at all.

"Were you married to Joe Moran?"

She listened carefully to his voice . . . it held neither anger or disdain. Probably not looking to collect a debt, then. She saw no reason not to answer him. "Once upon a time, when I was very young. Why?"

"I have a client who . . . is curious about him." Stu smiled, hoping to put Mrs. O'Bannon at ease. How many more redheaded ex-wives was he going to find? What was it about Joe Moran that attracted these women? And what made him leave them? Instead of the picture of Joe Moran getting clearer, it seemed to be getting murkier.

She turned to the back, much like her son, and called him. "David, come up front, please." In just a minute the young man Stuart had originally seen appeared next to his mother. "Mr. Bailey and I are going next door to the coffee shop. Please don't set the place on fire while I'm gone."

"Yes, ma'am," David answered promptly.

Terry O'Bannon came around the counter and took the arm Stu offered. "Out the door and to the left, Mr. Bailey." The lady was still well-built and wore slacks.

They were seated quickly and Stu held Mrs. O'Bannon's chair for her, then ordered. "Two coffees, please." Once the waitress left to get the coffee, Stu asked his guest, "I take it you didn't want your son to hear our discussion."

"Is that what this is, Mr. Bailey? A discussion? Or is it a question and answer session?" The waitress was back with the coffees, and once again Stu waited until she was gone.

"I would like to ask you some questions, Mrs. O'Bannon. If you don't mind answering them."

"If they're about my ex-husband, I don't mind at all. I just don't think David needs to know all the details of my first marriage."

Stu cleared his throat and took a swallow of his coffee, then pulled out his cigarette case and offered one to Terry. She accepted the offer and Stu took his lighter and lit both cigarettes, hers first. Talking to the Moran women was getting more difficult with each ex-wife. "How long were you and Joe married?"

"A little over a year. Just long enough for him to get the business started. When I told him I was pregnant he seemed happy. Then two days later he disappeared. I lost the baby but kept the dry-cleaners."

"When were you married?"

"Let's see, it was 1950, I believe. Yes, 1950."

"And when . . . " the waitress reappeared with the coffee pot. "Would you like anything, Mrs. O'Bannon?"

She shook her head. "No, thanks. And please call me Terry."

"I'll take the check, please." The girl tore a bill off her order pad and handed it to Stu. "I'm Stu, by the way." A long pause, followed by a drag on the cigarette and a smoke ring. "When did you divorce Joe?"

"The same year he left, Stu. 1951."

"Do you remember when the decree was final?" A lot was riding on her answer. Namely the legality of Phyllis and Audrey Moran's marriages.

"Not exactly. Sometime in January of 1952."

Stu breathed a sigh of relief. Both of Moran's subsequent marriages were legal.

"From your reaction I'd say that was the right answer." Now Terry Moran O'Bannon was smiling at him. She stubbed out the rest of her cigarette before continuing. "Do you have any more questions, Stu?"

"Just one or two. If Moran didn't sell the business before he disappeared, do you have any idea how he could have raised money before he left town?"

"When are you going to ask me a difficult question, Stu? I know exactly where he got money before his disappearance. He took out a mortgage on the property. The little worm got almost ten thousand dollars. It took me fifteen years to pay it off, but now the business is mine, free and clear."

"What about . . . " This wasn't strictly part of the investigation, but Stu was curious about her second husband. "Mr. O'Bannon?"

For the first time since he'd met her, Terry O'Bannon didn't smile. "George was killed in 1958."

"I'm sorry, Terry. I didn't mean to bring up a painful memory."

"It's not painful, Stu. It's just that I still miss him. David doesn't have a father to look up to and I don't have a husband. One of our friends came into the store last week and started talking about George; she stopped when she saw I had tears in my eyes. She just lost her husband about six months ago, and she asked me when you get over something like that. I told her 'You never get over it, you just get used to it.' I guess I'm still not used to it."

"One last question, Terry, and I'll get out of your hair. Do you know where Joe was born? Or where he lived before he came to Terre Haute?"

"He was born in Glenwood, Arkansas. And, let's see if I can remember, I believe he told me he lived in Hattiesburg, Mississippi before he moved to Terre Haute. Are you sure you don't have any more questions, Stu?"

The P.I. shook his head. "Not a one, Terry. Thank you for your time. I want you to know how grateful I am that you would sit down and answer all my questions when you don't even know why I'm asking them."

"That's alright, Stu. I've enjoyed talking to you, even if it was about Joe Moran."

Stu paid the check, left the waitress a healthy tip, and stood to help Terry with her chair. He once more offered her his arm and walked her back to the cleaners. "Thank you again, Terry."

He watched her disappear inside and walked to his car. Once again he lit a cigarette and blew smoke out into the air before starting the car and driving back to his hotel. Jeff wasn't going to be thrilled when he told his partner he was headed for Mississippi, but he'd come this far, and he intended to play the hand out until the end.


	9. Chapter 9

The Legend of Joe Moran

Chapter 9

"Where?" was all Jeff Spencer could ask.

"Hattiesburg, Mississippi. That's where Terry Moran O'Bannon told me he lived before he moved to Terre Haute." Stu wasn't a whole lot happier than his partner there was another step, another place, another day in the search for Joe Moran. Especially when it seemed Bailey was going in reverse rather than forward. But he'd come this far to discover . . . what exactly was it he was trying to find? Some hint of where Joe Moran might have gone when he left Audrey, or some reason why Moran married redheads and then vanished on them? Or, at this point in time, where it started? What made him this way? Stu was certain he would end up in Glenwood, Arkansas, so what prevented him from traveling there instead of Mississippi?

In the years he'd been a private investigator he'd learned that sometimes you have to move backward to move forward, and that's what he was trying to do eventually . . . move forward. But hopscotching around the country was wearing him out. He knew he was going to need a rest soon, and it was probably going to be in Hattiesburg. "Listen, I know what it sounds like, but I have to do this, Jeff."

Spencer knew better than to question Bailey's judgment. Stu had a nose for uncovering people no one else could find or clues no one else could see. This might sound like a wild goose chase, but Stu knew what he was doing. At least Jeff hoped he did. "I suppose you want to talk to Suzanne?"

"That would be an excellent idea. I'll give you the whole story later." Jeff could hear the weariness in his partner's voice, the curiosity, the determination to solve the problem. But he heard something else there, too, for the first time. Confusion.

"Stu, is everything alright? You sound – I'm not sure what to call it. Odd."

Stuart almost laughed. Jeff couldn't begin to know how right he was . . . odd was the best way Stu himself could describe it. He tried to sound like the man Jeff Spencer was used to hearing. Whether he succeeded or not was a question only Jeff could answer. "I'm just tired. Tired of airplanes and hotels and places I've never been and probably never will be again. Switch me over to the classy part of Bailey and Spencer, would you? I've got to get out of Indiana."

Jeff buzzed their receptionist on the intercom. "Suzanne, Stu's on line two."

"Bonjour, Stuart. Where are you going this time?"

"Get me as close to Hattiesburg, Mississippi as you can, Suzanne."

Suzanne was gone more than a minute or two this time. When she came back she didn't have good news. "I can get you into Biloxi or Jackson, Stuart, but you will have to drive to Hattiesburg from either one."

"Which ones closest, Suzanne?" He wasn't looking forward to a drive after a flight.

There was sympathy in Suzanne's voice when she gave him the answer. "They're about equal distance from Hattiesburg. The flight into Biloxi leaves in 90 minutes. The flight into Jackson leaves at ten tonight."

It wasn't a difficult decision. The sooner Stu got in Hattiesburg the sooner he could get some much-needed rest. "Biloxi, Suzanne."

"Hold on, Stuart. Let me confirm."

Another two-minute delay. Then that delightful French accent again. "You are confirmed on TWA Flight 478, leaving in 88 minutes, from Gate 12 in Terre Haute. Flying time approximately four hours. I had to book you in Frst Class, Stuart. That's all that was available for twenty-four hours."

"What about the flight to Jackson?" Stuart would love to fly first class but he wasn't sure Audrey Moran would pay for it.

"Hold, please." This time Suzanne was back quickly. "All seats are sold."

Stu sighed. He'd work out the expense account when he returned to California. "Alright. I'll be on the flight to Biloxi. Thanks, Suzanne. Tell Jeff . . . "

"I know, Stuart. I'll tell Jeff you'll call him in the morning."

"Thanks, Suzanne. You're the best."

Stu hurried in to take a shower and shave. When that was finished he chose his clothes carefully; he had four hours of airplane flight and who knew how many hours of driving before he could get some rest. He dressed casually, comfortably, then finished packing. Checking out, driving back to the airport and turning in his rental car were all accomplished with as much speed and efficiency as he could muster. He had enough time to grab a quick bite, so he found someplace in the airport that he could get a hamburger and a cup of coffee. When he was finished he found Gate 12, picked up his ticket, and waited for boarding to begin. He didn't have to wait long.

First Class boarded first, and Stuart settled into his seat comfortably and relaxed just a bit. He couldn't afford to go to sleep now, lest he not be awake enough to make the drive to Hattiesburg. He found a stewardess and asked if she had the latest newspapers; she responded that she had both a Terre Haute paper and a Biloxi paper. He settled for the paper from Biloxi. Once they'd taken off he was offered his choice of beverage and was handed a menu for dinner. He passed on food but requested a cup of coffee.

Everything was smooth until they'd been up in the air for about two hours, when the Fasten Seat Belts and No Smoking signs came on. The next thing they heard was the pilot's voice. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've turned on the Seat Belt sign in anticipation of what may be ahead for us. There are thunderstorms between here and Biloxi we're hoping to avoid, but we want to make sure our passengers are safe in case of turbulence. We'll let you know when we have a further update. Thank you."

Stu went back to his paper. There was no sense worrying about something that might not happen. Almost thirty minutes passed before there was more information. "Folks, this is the captain. I'm sorry to report we're unable to alter course enough to avoid the storms. We could be in for a bit of a roller coaster ride, but there's nothing to worry about. Please keep your seatbelts fastened. Thank you."

_Great,_ Stu thought, not looking forward to the turbulence. _Maybe I should have waited for a flight to Jackson._ He'd no sooner finished his ruminations than the plane dipped left before righting itself. It was the beginning of what could best be termed a bumpy ride. For the next thirty minutes they dipped, dropped, and rolled as much as any flight Stu had ever been on. If he was fighting sleep at the beginning of the trip he no longer had that problem. He was wide awake.

Stu wasn't a nervous flyer; he'd done so much of it that very little disturbed him. This flight did. He kept waiting for the weather to even out and stop tossing the plan around like a rubber ball, but that didn't happen until the plane began its descent into Biloxi. Stu breathed a sigh of relief and handed the newspaper to the stewardess when she passed. She smiled at him and he smiled back. He was more than relieved to be landing.

Once he'd retrieved his suitcase and travel bag he went to the car rental counter. In another fifteen minutes he was behind the wheel of a 1960 Ford Thunderbird, with a cup of coffee and a map in his possession. It shouldn't take him more than 90 minutes to make the drive to Hattiesburg.

Closer to two hours later he arrived in Hattiesburg and went looking for a hotel. It took him a few minutes but he finally found The Hattiesburg Motor Inn and pulled into the parking lot. One he'd gotten checked in he took his baggage up to the room. It wasn't anywhere near as luxurious as the Great Northern had been, but it wasn't bad, and it was clean. Stu unpacked and hung up his suits, leaving the shirts that needed laundering in the bag provided and sent them down the laundry shoot, per instructions.

He called the front desk and told them to hold his calls, then laid down on the bed. It was comfortable and that was all he required. Within minutes he was asleep. The next time he opened his eyes it would be morning in the deep South.


	10. Chapter 10

The Legend of Joe Moran

Chapter 10

The first order of business was to call down to the front desk and see if he had any messages. "Yes, sir, two calls from Mr. Jeff Spencer in Hollywood, California. Would you like the number he can be reached at?"

Stu looked at his watch, which he hadn't even bothered to remove before he laid down. It was eight a.m., which meant it was six in Los Angeles. "No thank you, I know the number. I'll return the calls later, thank you. Is there a restaurant or coffee shop in the hotel?"

"No sir, but there's an excellent restaurant right next door. It's called The Egg and I."

"Thank you." Breakfast would have to wait. He opened the door and found his shirts, clean and pressed, hanging on the outside as promised. He smiled; at least the laundry was first class, even if the motel wasn't. He closed the door and removed his watch, then stripped and got into the shower. When he was done shaving he got dressed and went downstairs, picking up a Hattiesburg paper and walking to the restaurant. The waitress brought coffee and filled his cup, then she handed him a menu. "Do you have any specials today?"

"Yes, sir. We have a fresh spinach omelet with grits and cinnamon toast, then we have . . . "

"That's alright. Can I get the omelet made with egg whites only?"

"Yes, sir."

"Skip the grits and bring the cinnamon toast dry with butter on the side." After the waitress left he opened the paper. It wasn't very big and it didn't have a Sports or Entertainment section. He scanned the paper for any advertisement but all he found were ads for grocery stores and auto repair shops. By the time he'd finished with the newspaper his breakfast had arrived.

The front desk clerk at the Inn was right – the food was excellent. As was the coffee. Stu had another cup before asking for his check. He paid for his breakfast, got a receipt for same, and left the waitress a nice tip. He went back to the motel and upstairs to his room, checking the time on his watch as he walked inside. It was 7:30 Los Angeles time. Stu picked up the phone. "Operator, I need to place a long-distance call to Olympia 61116. Yes, I'll hold."

It only took the Operator two or three minutes before she came back on the line. "I have your Los Angeles number, sir."

"Thank you. Jeff?"

"Stu. Thank God. I was worried when I couldn't reach you last night."

"How did you find me?"

"I put a tracker on your suitcase. How many hotels do you think are in Hattiesburg?"

"I don't know. I could only locate one." Stu had to chuckle . . . trust Jeff to find him. God help him if he ever wanted to disappear. He had no doubt that, unless he left the planet, his partner would track him down.

"For your information, there are only four. You were registered at the second. No calls last night?" Jeff needed to make sure there was nothing sinister going on.

"Remember I told you how exhausted I was? Once I got checked in I went straight to my room. I didn't even stop for food. Hung up my suits and collapsed on the bed, even left my watch on. And I didn't think you'd want me to call you at 6 a.m. your time. I'd have heard you hollering all the way from California to Mississippi."

Jeff snorted. "With what we heard about the thunderstorms in your area I'd have welcomed a call at that time of the morning."

"I've flown through worse."

"Since the end of the war?"

"Well . . . it was all behind us, or should I say above us, once we began the descent. By the time I drove to Hattiesburg I could have fallen asleep on a bed of nails." That wasn't much of an exaggeration. Stu was exhausted when he arrived and went to bed within twenty minutes of checking in.

There was a trace of anxiety in Jeff's voice. "Got any leads there?"

"Haven't even gotten to check the phone book yet. I'll let you know if I find what I'm looking for."

It was almost a minute before Jeff said anything. "Do you even know what you're looking for?"

Stu had to admit, it was a good question. "In a way. At least I've got an idea, which is more than I started out with. You have to trust me on this one, Jeff. I'm following a hunch."

"I'm just worried about how far you're going to follow it, Stu. Work is starting to pile up around here again. I'm afraid we'll get so far behind we'll have to turn business away. And, as Kookie would say, that don't pay the rent, dad."

"I can't see this taking me beyond the end of the week, Jeff." Very rarely did Jeff worry about work piling up, so Stu suspected things were getting serious.

He heard relief in his partner's voice. "Alright, I can keep us from insolvency that long. Just let me know if something happens to delay you."

"I promise to stay in touch. Talk to you later."

"Bye, dad."

Stu got out the Hattiesburg phone book. It was even smaller than the Terre Haute book had been. There were only five dry cleaners listed, and the names didn't give him any clue about who the owners were or had been. There were no Moran's in the White Pages, either. Well, there was nothing to do but go down the list one at a time and see what he could find.

XXXXXXXX

Stu had started out the morning oddly hopeful, but by the late afternoon most of that feeling had dissipated. He'd been all over town, visiting four of the five dry cleaners and turning up nothing. No one knew Moran; no one even remembered him. He was on his way to the last one and was doing his best not to be discouraged.

_One-hour Dry Cleaning_ the sign outside Mr. Cleans Laundry and Dry Cleaners proclaimed. Stu pulled his rental car onto the street in front of the establishment and pulled out his cigarette case. Five minutes later he stubbed out what was left of the smoke and got out of the car. When he opened the front door he knew there was something different about this place; the building felt new somehow. "Good afternoon," he greeted the young woman who came to the counter. "My name is Stuart Bailey. May I speak to the owner, please?"

"Yes sir." Without another word she disappeared back through the clothing racks. There was silence, except for the sound of the machines, and he wondered if it was her polite way of saying "Go away."

Almost five minutes later a man made his appearance. He was gray-haired and round and he walked slowly up to the counter. Stu would have put him at sixty or sixty-five. "I'm the owner. Can I help you?"

"My name is Stuart Bailey. I'm looking for someone who knew Joe Moran. He would have lived in Hattiesburg sometime prior to 1950. He owned or operated a dry cleaning business in town. Is that name familiar to you, sir?" Stu had taken his card case from his inside pocket and removed a business card, handing it to the gentleman. The man examined the card carefully before he spoke. And when he did so he offered his hand.

"Ollie Hedgepath, Mr. Bailey. What is a Private Investigator from California want with Joe Moran?"

They shook hands before Stu answered him. "One of Mr. Moran's friends is trying to find him. Someone that knew him a long time ago, which is what led me to Hattiesburg. Did you know him?"

The old man snorted. "Know him? I'd say so. I was partners with him." He looked around carefully. "Mr. Bailey, it's hard to talk at the counter. Would you mind coming in back with me?"

"Not at all, Mr. Hedgepath." Stu followed Ollie Hedgepath through the racks of clothes until they reached the far corner of the building, which held what appeared to be a small office. The business owner opened the door and took a seat behind the desk, offering a seat in front of the desk to Stu. "Now, Mr. Bailey, just what is it you need to know about Joe?"

"Anything you feel you can tell me, Mr. Hedgepath. For example, how long ago were you and Joe partners?"

"More than ten years ago, Mr. Bailey. Joe started working for me when he was just a young man, back after the war ended. He was my counter man, and you couldn't find a more dependable fellow. He'd do any job I asked him to do, worked any hours I needed him, even stayed extra so I could spend time with my wife. He'd been here about three years when he met a nice girl and got married."

"By any chance, was she a redhead, Mr. Hedgepath?"

The old man looked confused. "Why yes, she was. How did you know?"

"Educated guess." Stu had neither the time or the wherewithal to explain the long trail of redheads Joe Moran had married and deserted.

"Anyway, within a year after they were married I promoted him to manager. He took over the day-to-day operations, scheduling, hiring, things like that. One afternoon he came to me and told me he still had a chunk of money he'd gotten from his years in the army, and offered to buy into the business with me. Right then I was having a pretty rough time financially; I'd had a lot of medical bills when my wife got sick, and an influx of cash was welcome. So I sold him part of the business for five-thousand dollars. Five-thousand dollars was a lot of money after the war, and it got me back on my feet." Ollie Hedgepath got up and got a cup of coffee from the coffee pot in the corner. "Can I offer you some coffee, Mr. Bailey?"

"No thanks. Tell me more about Moran."

"I let Joe take over the financial end of the business; it was a great relief to me. I'd found out my wife had cancer, and I wanted to spend every minute I could with her, not handling the books. After Bernice died I was in no shape to come back to work. It was another six months before I put a foot in the front door. Once I came back Joe took off on vacation, and while he was gone I started getting strange phone calls. The electric bill was three months past due; same with the phone and my suppliers. Payroll taxes hadn't been paid, and neither had the employees. Joe told them I had to sign the payroll checks and I was still too distraught to be disturbed. I called a friend who was a CPA and asked him to look at the books. What he found made me mad as hell.

"Joe had been slowly siphoning money out of the business for quite some time. We never did find out exactly how much was missing, because one night the plant caught fire and burned to the ground. All the records were destroyed in the blaze. Thank God the one thing he'd paid was the insurance."

Ollie Hedgepath sat quietly drinking his coffee for four or five minutes before Stu asked another question. "Do you know if Joe started the fire?"

"That's a question I'd like an answer to. Joe didn't come back from his so-called vacation, and I never saw him again. The fire department listed the cause of the blaze as a loose wire in one of the machines. God only knows if that was the truth, but at least the insurance company paid off. Eventually, I rebuilt."

"And what happened to Mrs. Moran?"

"Well, that's a long story. Let's just say that we were two lonely people. After she divorced Joe, Doris and I become good friends, and after a while we were more than good friends. We've been married now for almost ten years."

"One last question, Mr. Hedgepath. Do you know what year Doris divorced Joe?"

"It was 1949, Mr. Bailey. That was the best thing she ever did." Ollie finished his coffee and set the cup on his desk. "That's all? Did you learn what you needed to know?"

Stu nodded. What a merry chase Joe Moran had led him on. He stood up and shook hands with Hedgepath, then turned to go. It was the question that stopped him. "Are you going to see Virginia?"

"Virginia? Virginia who?" That was a name he hadn't heard before.

"Joe's mother. She still lives in Glenwood. If you're doing what I think you're doing, you have to meet Virginia Moran. It might explain a lot of things."

Stu groaned. He was so tired of chasing around the country for a man that had become an enigma. Yet he couldn't come all this way to ignore the woman that started it all. Could he?

"I don't suppose you know if Glenwood has an airport, do you?" Stu asked, hopefully.

"Just a military base. But it's only about 30 miles from Hot Springs to Glenwood. A really nice drive, too. Take a puddle jumper out of Hattiesburg to Jackson, then you can get a direct flight to Hot Springs. Virginia's listed in the phone book." Pause. "If you want to know how Joe Moran got to be the way he is, you have to meet Virginia. Good luck, Mr. Bailey."

"Thank you."

Back to his hotel, and another call to the office. This time directly to Suzanne. "Good afternoon, Bailey and Spencer."

"Suzanne, it's Stuart. I need you to find out if you can get me on a direct flight from Jackson, Mississippi to Hot Springs, Arkansas. I need about three hours to get to the airport in Jackson. Call me back at The Hattiesburg Motor Inn, Zenith 48657, room 209. And tell Jeff I'm going to Glenwood, Arkansas and I'll call him when I get there."

"Oui, Stuart."

_One last leg on this trip,_ Stu told himself. _Dear God, please_.


	11. Chapter 11

The Legend of Joe Moran

Chapter 11

The flight from Jackson to Hot Springs was uneventful, and Stu dozed on and off. Once they'd landed he rented a car and drove to Glenwood. He looked around when he got there and had a single thought_. It_ _would fit in the palm of my hand_, Stuart chuckled to himself. The main street had a stoplight and a motel that looked like it had maybe ten rooms. He'd overestimated, he later learned, the Glenwood Inn only had eight. Fortunately there was at least one unoccupied, and Stu took it. Like the room in Hattiesburg, it was nothing to write home about, but it was neat and clean.

He'd passed a small diner on his way into the town, and he went there now. He ordered coffee and a turkey sandwich, and asked the waitress if Glenwood had a newspaper. "Yes sir, and a new edition just came out today. Would you like a copy?"

"Yes, please. How often is it printed?" The woman pulled a copy out of a pocket on her apron and handed it to the P.I.

"Weekly, sir. Do you need any cream or sugar for the coffee?"

"No ma'am." Stu opened the paper and looked through it. It was full of local news, gossip, ads and comic strips. He saw nothing that would lead him to discover the whereabouts of Virginia Moran. When the waitress brought his sandwich he asked her another question. "Do you happen to know Virginia Moran?"

A chuckle from the waitress, followed by, "I should, sir. She's my grandmother."

"Is Joe your father?" Stu didn't see how that was possible, but he wanted to explore all avenues.

"No, sir. Lorena is my mom. Joe is her younger brother."

"Do you think your grandmother would be willing to answer questions about her son from a complete stranger?" Stu removed his card case and handed her a business card.

"Wooee. A private investigator all the way from Hollywood. We thought California was a myth. I'm Susan Myers, by the way. It's nice to meet you, Stuart Bailey."

"You too, Susan. About your Grandmother . . . "

"Oh I'm sure Grandma would see you. She'd be curious and cranky the way she always is, but underneath all the bluster she's just a sweetheart. I can call her, if that's okay with you."

Stu's head nodded. "I'd appreciate it."

Susan disappeared into the kitchen while he ate. The sandwich was above average. By the time he was finished, she had returned. "Grandma asked me if you were good looking. When I told her yes she said she'd be more than happy to talk to you. Be careful, Grandma is notorious for trotting out the picture albums."

"Where does she live, Susan?"

"See this street outside? Go down to the light and turn left. It will be the fourth house on the right. It's pink with a white fence in front, 220 South Street."

Stu stood and reached for his wallet. "What do I owe you for the sandwich?"

Susan giggled, then smiled at the man she'd called good looking. "Oh no, lunch is on me. Now I can tell people I served lunch to a real Hollywood celebrity."

"Susan, I'm not . . . "

"Oh yes you are, Mr. Stuart Bailey. You're the biggest celebrity this town is ever gonna see."

Stuart smiled at her small-town naiveté. He tucked two dollars in her apron pocket. When she stared at him with her mouth open, he smiled as he told her, "It's the least I can do."

Stu walked back to the Glenwood Inn and sat in his car for a few minutes. He lit a cigarette and blew smoke out into the vehicle, then started the engine and drove the five minutes it took him to find Virginia Moran's house. It was obvious someone enjoyed gardening. There were oaks that looked like they'd been there since the house was built; maples, plums and hickories that were somewhat younger and flowers lining the fence and walk. He parked in front and got out, went up the walk and knocked on the door. "Coming," he heard a voice call, and he waited patiently for Virginia Moran. When the door was finally opened he was surprised but not shocked. Although it was obviously dyed, Virginia Moran's hair was bright red.

"Mr. Bailey?" An unusual voice asked. It was soft and low, and didn't display any of the crankiness her granddaughter warned him about.

"Yes, ma'am. I have some questions to ask you. May I come in?"

She looked at him with an appreciative glance as she held the door open. "By all means, Mr. Bailey, please do."

He followed her in and she led him into what could only be described as a parlor. There was a lot of chintz and lace, but the furniture seemed old, although neatly kept. Virginia Moran had to be in her seventies, yet she still possessed an attractive face and a reasonably shapely figure. She directed him to a chair and asked, "Would you care for some coffee, Mr. Bailey?"

"I would like that very much, Mrs. Moran."

"Please," she told him as she headed for what had to be the kitchen, "call me Virginia. Everyone either calls me that or Grandma. Somehow you don't strike me as the Grandma type. Do you need anything for you coffee or do you take it black?"

"Black, Virginia, and please call me Stu or Stuart."

She returned with two cups and a coffee pot on a serving tray. She poured Stu's first and handed him the cup, then poured one for herself. "What is it you want to ask me, Stu?"

"Tell me about your son Joe."

Her face fell noticeably. "We might do better if you asked me questions, Stu."

"Why is that, Virginia?" Stu took a sip of coffee and waited for her answer.

"Let's just say that my son and I don't see eye-to-eye. He's done some things in his life that don't make me proud."

Stu genuinely felt sympathy for the woman. "I'm sorry, Virginia. Did Joe volunteer for the service or was he drafted?"

"Drafted."

"And was he honorably discharged when the war was concluded?"

"Yes, he was." There was a note of something in her voice that he didn't expect . . . sadness perhaps.

"I understand he went to work for Ollie Hedgepath in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. Why did he move to Hattiesburg rather than stay here in Glenwood?"

That elicited a laugh. "Really, Stuart, you've seen this town. I don't know where he could have gotten a job, unless he wanted to repair automobiles. My son is not mechanically inclined."

"But why so far away?" This question had driven Stu to distraction. He wanted . . . no, needed to know the answer.

"Because of me."

"Could you explain that, please?"

"I made it perfectly clear that if he intended to pursue the path he had in mind, I didn't even want to be in the same state with him."

"And what was the path he wanted to pursue?"

"He wanted to be rich, Stu, and he didn't care what he had to do to get there. Lie, cheat, steal, they were all acceptable to Joe."

Stu nodded. "That must have been very upsetting for you." Susan had described her grandmother as curios and cranky. The P.I. had seen neither of those so far.

"Beyond upsetting. Joe was a happy surprise, a son that my husband and I didn't expect. But he was a handful, from the time we brought him home from the hospital until the last time he walked out that door. Oh, he could be a sweet, gentle boy when he wanted to be, but those times were almost non-existent once he came home from the war. So, my invitation to leave – and never come back."

"I'd like to give you some information you might not be aware of. Joe has been married four times . . . all four wives with red hair. It's almost like he's trying to get approval from a woman that looks remarkably like you." It was a conclusion Stu had come to a while back, but couldn't confirm until he met and talked to his mother.

There was a noticeable gasp from Virginia Moran. "Seriously?" she asked a few moments later.

"Yes, ma'am." There was not much more that Stu could say. He'd actually divulged information he probably shouldn't have.

"Why are you looking for my son, Mr. Bailey?" The friendliness in her voice had vanished. It was replaced by polite iciness.

"Someone in California hired me to find Joe. "

"Someone in law enforcement?"

Stu shook his head. He'd gone this far, he might as well go all the way. "No, ma'am."

A sigh of relief. "So he's not in any legal trouble?"

_Word this carefully, Bailey,_ he told himself. "He wasn't when I left California."

"Hmpf. Must be an ex-wife then."

Stu smiled. It was all he was prepared to do.


	12. Chapter 12

The Legend of Joe Moran

Chapter 12

Stu had never been so happy to hear the words, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Los Angeles," in his entire life. Even though it was eleven at night he saw Jeff's ever eager face, smiling while he waited for his partner.

"Boy, am I glad to see you. Here, give me your suitcase." Jeff didn't wait for the suitcase to be handed over, he took it from Stu, leaving the older man carrying only his briefcase and travel bag. The two men entered the terminal and walked through it. "How was your flight?"

"Long and a little bumpy. Nothing to worry about. I tried sleeping on the plane but that didn't work, so I'm beyond tired. Can we wait until tomorrow morning to go over everything? I promise I'll show up to work in the morning and start helping you dig out of the pile of overdue work." Jeff could see the exhaustion on his partner's face. It had been a long ten days.

"Sure. I didn't think you'd want to talk tonight. You sit back and relax and I'll get you home in a jiffy."

The beginnings of a smile creased Stu's countenance. "I knew there was a reason you're my favorite partner."

"It also helps that I'm your only partner."

Both men laughed as they got into Jeff's car. Stu listened to the purr of the engine as it turned over, and before Jeff could say "Close your eyes," Stu was asleep. The next thing he knew Jeff was shaking his shoulder. "Come on, dad, you're home."

"Already?"

"Yes, and you're too big to be carried in. You have to walk."

"Alright." After most flights Stu and Jeff bantered back and forth about the trip, the office, or anything else that came to mind. For Stuart, the educated, elegant linguist, to be reduced to one-word answers, showed that he was beyond tired . . . he was drained. Jeff knew that all the traveling, scurrying back and forth and being away from home had wiped Stu out. And he had no idea what Stu had been through in the interviews he'd conducted in one locale or another. Considering the state of exhaustion Stu was obviously experiencing, Jeff felt guilty for complaining about the overflow of paperwork at the office.

"I'll come and get you tomorrow about eight o'clock." Kookie had retrieved Stu's car from LAX and brought it back to the office, where it had been ever since. "Can you make that?"

"Sure."

Stu was sitting on the bed, and that's where he was when Jeff last saw him. When he got to the front door he called, "Stu, I'm leaving." He never got an answer or acknowledgment of any kind. Stu had already laid down and fallen asleep, still fully dressed. He didn't care; he was in his own bed, at last.

Jeff knocked on Stu's door at eight o'clock sharp. There was no answer. He knocked again. Still no response. He dug out his key and unlocked the door. He was ready to head for the bedroom when he heard the shower running. _Well, at least he's up,_ Jeff thought. He walked out into the kitchen; Stu always made a pot of coffee before he went into the shower. Jeff poured a cup and sat down on the couch. He'd look for something to read but he already knew he wouldn't find any of Stu's magazines he'd be interested in.

The shower went off a minute or two later and he heard the shower door open. "Jeff?"

Now how did his partner do that? Jeff hadn't made a sound, yet Stuart knew he was there. "Who else has a key?"

"Well . . . but they wouldn't steal my coffee."

"Do you want a cup?"

"Of course."

Stu was already half-dressed by the time Jeff got the coffee to him. "You shaved already!"

"Sure, I did that in the shower. Are you early or am I late?"

Jeff chuckled. "A little of both. Did you get unpacked last night?"

"Unpacked? I didn't even get undressed. The housekeeper comes in today. She'll take care of it for me, and get the clothes to the cleaners, too. How about a refill on that coffee?" Jeff nodded his head. Stu had managed to finish dressing and drink a cup of coffee at the same time.

"Sure."

They went to the kitchen and Stu poured them another cup. "You ready to go?"

"I am. Have you forgotten how to get to the office?" Jeff asked as they walked to his car.

"Doesn't matter if I have. You're driving." The remark made Jeff smile. He had his partner back.

XXXXXXXX

Suzanne was thrilled to see Bailey and Spencer walk through the door together. "Bonjour, Stuart, Bonjour, Jeff. Do you both want your messages?"

Stu cringed. "How many are from Audrey Moran?"

"Only one, Stuart. She accepted Jeff at his word when he told her to wait until you returned. Jeff, Mr. Higgins is calling again. And William Bell wants to talk to you, too."

"Tell them I'm dead. Tell them I'm sick. Tell them I went to Mars, tell them anything, but don't tell them I'm here," Jeff groaned.

"Now, Jefferson . . . " Stu began.

"Tell them I'm in a conference and I'll call them when I'm free. And Suzanne, go find Kookie and tell him we need three coffees and four sweet rolls from Andre. The fourth ones for him. Then put the switchboard on hold and join us in Stu's office. We're going to have an impromptu welcome home party."

"Don't you think that's a little extreme? I was only gone ten days, after all," Stu reminded his partner.

"The longest ten days of my life," Jeff answered. Stu hadn't seen his 'In Box' yet.

Twenty minutes later Stu and Jeff were reviewing the almost completed jewelry report that would get Higgins off the firm's back. "I think you've done an outstanding report, Jeff. You could have sent this off without my help."

"I just feel better with you looking it over. You know what a character Higgins can be, and we can't afford for him to be unhappy with something I send."

Stu laughed. "Now that Higgins is out of the way, do you have time for the legend of Joe Moran?"

"Sure. Let me call Higgins first and tell him my report is on its way." Jeff went back into his office to call the persnickety insurance man. When that was finished he took the completed report to Suzanne and asked her to call a courier and have the finished product delivered. Then he hastened back into Stu's office and closed the door. "Now then. The legend of Joe Moran, eh? This must be really something."

"Oh, it is," his partner replied. "And it all began when that beautiful redhead walked into my office."

For the next hour, Stu wove a tale of intrigue and mystery. Jeff listened, fascinated by the lengths that Joe Moran had gone to, to fulfill his dream of being rich. When Stu was finished, Jeff just shook his head. "No wonder you came back exhausted. I'm afraid I'd have given up after the second Mrs. Moran."

How could Stu explain? Even he wasn't sure why he'd kept going, searching from state to state for something as elusive as a reason for the methodical flight from redhead to redhead. The classy and expensive looking Audrey, the mysterious and comforting Phyllis, the practical and resourceful Terry, the unknown quantity of Doris, and last but not least, the woman that might be the inspiration for the obsession, Virginia.

Stu still wasn't sure what had caused his fascination with Phyllis Moran, Joe's third wife, but now that he was back home the pull he'd felt towards her had dissipated substantially. He wasn't sure he'd ever understand what had drawn him to her, but he no longer felt the desire to know. Or to talk it over with Jeff.

"Well, that's the story. Of course I could be completely wrong about Moran's reason for what he did with his life, and why he married redhead after redhead. But I don't think I'm too far off base."

"What's your next move?" Jeff asked as he got up from the chair and wandered toward his office.

"What do you think?"

"I'll close the door. I don't want to be within range when she hears the story from you. I assume you're going to tell her the whole thing?"

"If there isn't too much wailing and gnashing of teeth," Stu replied as he picked up the phone and dialed.

The end result of the phone call was that Audrey Moran now had a three o'clock appointment. "Remind me to be out of the office at three o'clock," Jeff remarked.

"Chicken," was Stu's comeback.


	13. Chapter 13

The Legend of Joe Moran

Chapter 13

Audrey Moran was there promptly at three o'clock. "Hello, Audrey. Would you like something to drink?"

"A vodka tonic would be quite nice, Stuart. Will you have one with me?"

Stu shook his head. "It's a little early for me. I still have a lot of work to do. I'll have your written report done in a day or two, but I assumed you didn't want to wait any longer than you had to for an oral report." He finished pouring Audrey's drink and handed it to her.

"You assumed correctly. What did you find out about my missing husband?"

"Nothing . . . and everything. You sure you want to hear this?"

"I'm positive."

"Then make yourself comfortable, Audrey. I followed a long trail to see if I could find your husband or determine where he'd gone. I believe I have an idea, but you need to hear the story of how we got here."

"You make it sound so intriguing, Stuart. Knowing Joe as little as I obviously did, whatever you discovered should be fascinating."

Stu was a little taken aback by the sound of Audrey Moran's words. Ten days ago she'd sounded unhappy, alone and miserable. Now it was more like C' est la vie, I'm not sure I want him back. Something had caused the change in her attitude; perhaps it was the reality of what he'd done to her and his business that had gotten to her. This was not a woman you could run aground easily.

"Alter I spoke to you I went to see . . . " Stu began, and wove the tale of Joe Moran to his current wife. He cleaned up the story a little when it came to Joe's stealing, but the rest of it was by-the-book. By the time he'd reached Virginia, Audrey's glass was empty and she was smoking a cigarette, looking rather blasé about the whole thing. " . . . and I just arrived late last night. That's all I know, Audrey. The trail ended with Joe's mother, and I've only a vague notion of where your husband might be now." Stu waited for a reaction. There was none. Then he saw the empty glass. "Would you like another drink?"

"Please."

He fixed her another vodka tonic, and this time fixed himself one, too. He had a feeling he was going to need it. He took her drink to her, then sat down behind his desk with his. After a swallow he couldn't help but ask, "You seem to have a different attitude than you did when you engaged our services. Has something happened to cause that?"

Audrey laughed, a full, deep-throated laugh, and pulled out another cigarette. Stuart lit it for her and sat down with one himself. "I'm sorry, Stuart, you look so innocent and sincere. I do indeed have a different attitude, about a lot of things. Joe Moran, for instance. That little weasel sold the business before he vanished and ran off with the money. And he cleaned out our checking account and our savings. It's all gone, every last cent of it. He disappeared with over one-hundred-thousand dollars."

"I'm sorry, Audrey. What are you going to do?"

"Do? Not a damn thing. You see, when Joe and I were married I told him my parents were dead. I didn't tell him that when they died they left me an estate worth over four million dollars. I was getting ready to tell Joe about some of the money and transfer it to our bank account. I'm glad I hadn't gotten around to it. Now he'll never know what he missed out on."

Stu began laughing and couldn't stop. Moran had lied and cheated and stolen for years in order to run away to (Stu suspected) Mexico. If he'd stayed with Audrey he could have a whole lot more than one-hundred-thousand dollars. When he finally stopped laughing, he saw Audrey giving him a strange look.

"What's so funny?" she asked petulantly.

"It's just . . . it's just so . . . oh, I can't explain it here. How about drinks and dinner over at Dino's, and I'll tell you why I'm laughing."

The redhead smiled and stubbed out what was left of her cigarette. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. Can you go now?"

He thought about all the work there was to catch up on. It would still be there after dinner, and it wouldn't be the first night he'd worked late. "Of course." Stu got up from the desk and offered Audrey Moran his arm, which she took happily. They stopped by Suzanne's desk on the way out. "Suzanne, I'm taking Mrs. Moran to dinner. I'll see you in the morning. Tell Jeff I'll be back later." He turned to his companion. "Shall we go, Mrs. Moran?" Stu asked, and she smiled at him again.

"Most assuredly, Mr. Bailey."

Stu smiled himself as they went out the front door. Maybe Joe Moran wasn't such a legend, after all.

_The End_


End file.
